03/16/26
I was still itchin' for a good scramble a couple days after summiting Mt. Kinesava, and what better way to soothe the itch than to check out good ol' Mountain of the Sun. Yup, that's its real name: Mountain of the Sun. Probably one of the coolest names of any peak I know; it's up there with Mount of the Holy Cross, The Citadel, and of course, Cloudripper. With a name like that, I knew I just had to climb it. So with my legs somewhat rested, I decided to give it a try.
I'd heard bits and pieces about this mountain over the years. Saw it with my own eyes about 8 years ago, gazing up at its dramatic summit from the canyon floor. At the time I had no idea what I was looking at, didn't know about the name or the route or anything. It just looked really cool and that was enough. A few years later I discovered that this mountain had a name, so I read some trip reports about it and was immediately intrigued by the interesting approach required to reach the summit. Always thought to myself "Yeah, I'll have to climb that one day." Well, now it was time to finally get out there and do it for real. So I brushed up on those old reports, watched a couple of youtube videos chronicling the route, and then set off on the road to Zion National Park.
The place was pretty dang busy for a Monday morning. Must've been the spring break crowd. I drove on through the tunnel and was surprised to see every single parking spot taken; up and down the road, bumper to bumper, cars of all shapes and sizes were parked in every possible pull out, even the ones that said "no parking." So I drove up the road a bit, turned around, and crossed my fingers, hoping that a spot had opened up down below. Sure enough, someone was just leaving and I luckily nabbed their spot, parking just at the base of the climb to Progeny Peak. Full of gratitude, I suited up, drank some water, and then walked down the road towards Upper Pine Creek.
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| Upper Pine Creek |
I clambered on down into Upper Pine Creek, the sand cool, the morning air sharp and crisp. Pleasant walking on relatively flat terrain greeted me; I used the time to stretch the legs, get the feet warmed up, prepare my woozy brain for the terrific gains and losses in elevation that were soon to come. A slight breeze blew through the tippy tops of the trees, the gentle "whooshing" of the foliage the only sound that could be heard. I continued along on sand and slabs, gazing every now and then to my left for the important spot to exit the creek.
Sure enough I found it, a steep, slabby section that quickly rose up out of the creek. I certainly didn't find the easiest way up out of there, but soon I saw a cairn and I knew I was headin' in the right direction. So I trodded along, swiftly gaining elevation, making my way over to a large, slickrock bowl of sorts.
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| Where I left the creek |
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| The slickrock bowl |
The bowl ended up being a lot steeper than it looked; some funky class 2/3 moves were required to get through it. There's probably many different ways to navigate through this bowl. Some go left, others bravely climb straight up the middle. I swayed to the right, climbing up a super steep ramp at one point to surmount a tricky section. Along the way, in the distance, I noticed some markings etched into a vertical face. Upon closer inspection they turned out to be petroglyphs, depicting a cast of humanoid figures and some unknown four-legged animal. It's always cool to stumble upon sites like these, but I've said it once and I'll say it again: if you yourself ever manage to find 'em please don't disturb anything. No touchy touchy!
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| Bighorn Peak center, East Temple right |
I reached the top of the bowl, angling to the north. Bighorn Peak rose to the south, with the massive bulk of Twin Brothers and the East Temple dominating the views to the west and southwest. I made my way down off the saddle, descending towards the base of the east face of Twin Brothers. Not wanting to give up too much elevation, I tended to stay north, slowly making my way through funky, slabby terrain. I eventually found a couple of cairns and a faint use trail that I followed the rest of the way to the beginning of what is colloquially known as "Employee Canyon."
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| Heading down to "Employee Canyon" |
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| "Employee Canyon" |
I reached a notch of sorts. Passed through it. Employee Canyon was dead ahead, looking steep, narrow, quiet, beautiful, awesome. Ahh yeah. This was gonna be good. I followed the use trail into the canyon, quickly losing quite a bit of elevation, the route sandy, slabby, somewhat loose. Once at the base of the first steep section I continued along, walking underneath noiseless pines, the whole canyon in complete silence, vertical sandstone walls on both sides reaching up into the heavens.
I bobbed and weaved down the canyon, avoiding a steep sandstone ramp that kinda looked like an elephant's trunk. After that, the going was pretty easy. Just walkin' in the sand and the occasional rock hop to avoid water. Eventually, the terrain flattened out, the canyon widened a bit, and I looked to the left, trying to find the famous ramp that I'd take to leave the canyon. Ahh yes, there it was, wayyy up in the cliffs, marked by a diagonal line of pines and shrubs. I continued walking down the canyon until I met up with the base of this ramp. I hooked left and began the ascent.
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| Heading up the ramp |
This ramp was probably the coolest part of the whole trek. Nice and wide, hardly any exposure at all and not even that steep; a typical "sidewalk in the sky" sort of deal. I took my time walking up the ramp, enjoying the tremendous scenery that stretched out all around me. A few moments of terrific walking later and I could finally see the titular Mountain of the Sun, its south face gleaming in the late morning light.
I wasn't too sure when to leave the ramp. Going too far would not be ideal, and leaving too soon would result in cliffs. So I kinda just eyeballed it and left the ramp in what I figured to be the easiest part, carefully making my way over slanted slabs to the base of the climb to the summit. I found a few footprints and a faint use trail along the way, so I must've been doing something right. Once at the base I took a quick break, chugging some water and tightening my shoes. And then it was on!
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| Mountain of the Sun |
I followed a use trail for a bit, navigating up steep, loose, crumbly terrain. A short scramble later and I reached what some folks had described as a cruxy section: a brief, somewhat slanted sandstone slab with a teensy bit of exposure. The thing wasn't super steep and had great texture; personally I didn't find it too challenging. But I suppose it's all relative, you know?
Once past the slab, I made my way into a gully or chute or whatever, the going super steep, the rock no different than the typical Zion crumbliness of which I've grown quite familiar with over these past couple weeks. Near the top of the chute was a tree, and next to the tree was the official crux of the route. Ahh yeah. Almost there!
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| Going up the chute or gully or whatever |
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| The crux |
Can't really miss this section; if you keep going you'll end up at a significant drop-off. I climbed up the crux, a steep class 3/4 chute, the holds somewhat good. Once past the tree, the terrain became more open and airy. I made a mental note of the tree for the descent; wouldn't want to go down the wrong chute and get cliffed out on the way back. No siree bob.
While one could continue straight up, I decided to angle left (south), carefully avoiding sandy, crumbly nonsense. Going straight up seemed a lot more challenging, plus I'm lazy and I always look for the easiest way to do something. Luckily my laziness payed off; I soon found a well-worn use trail, following it the rest of the way to the summit in no time.
I threw down my pack, placed my arms akimbo, and soaked in the views. Yup. Them's were pretty darn good, rivaling those I'd seen on Kinesava just a couple days ago. I left the summit, heading to a flat area just to the west. I spent most of my time there, the views of Zion Canyon the best I've seen. I could see darn near most of it, from the town of Springdale to my left and Angel's Landing to my right and everything in between. I sat down, ate a granola bar, and gazed upon the sublime.
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| The summit! |
I threw down my pack, placed my arms akimbo, and soaked in the views. Yup. Them's were pretty darn good, rivaling those I'd seen on Kinesava just a couple days ago. I left the summit, heading to a flat area just to the west. I spent most of my time there, the views of Zion Canyon the best I've seen. I could see darn near most of it, from the town of Springdale to my left and Angel's Landing to my right and everything in between. I sat down, ate a granola bar, and gazed upon the sublime.
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| Nippletop, the Triplets and Lost Peak center |
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| Zion Canyon, looking towards Springdale |
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| Zion Canyon, looking towards Angel's Landing |
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| Summit register |
Once I'd had my fill, I ventured back onto the summit and checked out the register. One of the few registers on any Zion peak, this thing had entries going all the way back to 1992. Someone had taken the time to digitally print out most of these entries, chronicling the trials and tribulations of those who reached the summit from 1992 to 2021. There was also a laminated page of the first entry (or one of the first entries; the thing was in pretty bad shape), which was cool. The last person to reach the summit hiked up just the day before; seems like this peak gets decent traffic. I made my marks, closed up the register, took one last look around, and then began the electrifying descent.
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| Heading back down the chute or gully or whatever |
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| Down the ramp into Employee Canyon |
I retraced my steps off the mountain, following the use trail to the class 3 stuff, descending back through the crux move. I moseyed my way down the chute or gully or whatever, the going surprisingly mellow. I butt-scooted down the slabby, cruxy section, aiming for a small tree. Once past the tree it was back to the use trail, following it all the way to the slanted slabs that dumped me out on the amazing sandstone ramp. Down the ramp I went, taking far too many photos of the gorgeous descent back into Employee Canyon.
Elated from a successful summit, I bounded through Employee Canyon like it was nothing, climbing up the steep elephant's trunk that I'd avoided earlier in the morning. A quick scramble up out of the canyon later and I was back at the notch, now following the use trail up and away to the saddle.
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| Elephant's trunk. |
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| Making my way to the saddle... |
I was still feeling pretty good by the time I reached the saddle, so I decided to make a quick detour and check out Bighorn Peak. It was, after all, right there, and it didn't look too hard and I was in the area so yeah, I was definitely gonna climb it. I followed the saddle to the peak's north ridge, walking up nothing particularly difficult, the going no more challenging than class 2. Incredible views of the East Temple and Twin Brothers appeared before me, the magnificent West Temple poking up between them in the distance.
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| Bighorn Peak |
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| West Temple between East Temple(left) and Twin Brothers(right) |
I reached a highpoint of sorts, the summit fairly flat and uninteresting. I continued along on the summit ridge, not sure where the true highpoint actually was. I aimed for a snag that was situated on some crumbly slabs, the views from this vantage point quite excellent. I took a few pictures, tried to name a few unknown summits, and then turned around, climbing back down the north ridge to the saddle.
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| Excellent views from Bighorn Peak |
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| Twin Brothers (left) and Deertrap Mountain (right) |
Once at the saddle, I decided to take a more direct descent into the crazy slickrock bowl. I lingered mostly to the south, sliding and scooting down slabs of varying difficulty. Needless to say, it was significantly easier on the way down than on the way up. Nothing too scary, nothing too precarious. I zig-zagged down that jazz, angling towards Upper Pine Creek.
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| Descending the slickrock bowl |
I veered south near the bottom of the slickrock bowl, walking along at a brisk pace. A cairn appeared before me, marking the spot to leave the slickrock terrain in order to access Upper Pine Creek. A steep, slabby descent later and I was back in the sandy creek, nothing but smooth sailing from there on out.
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| Upper Pine Creek |
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| Smooth sailing |
I hiked up out of the creek, walking back along the road to the car. Put 'er in gear and drove on out of there, the pullouts still full, the park as busy as ever. When I eventually made it home I changed into comfier attire, cooked up some lunch and rested the ol' legs. Usually by this point I'd be done for the day; nothing but pure sloth scheduled for the rest of the afternoon. But I had another commitment that day, a whole other adventure in a whole other area. The day prior, a couple of my coworkers told me they wanted to check out the Northgate Peaks. Since I'm apparently the resident "peak bagger" of the company, I felt obligated to join them, to show them around, to help them experience the joys of the mountain. Plus the Northgate Peaks are just plain awesome and any opportunity to climb them (especially with other people) is something I ain't gonna miss. And so, just one hour after getting back home, they drove on by, picked me up and we all zoomed off into the mountains.
We drove up the Kolob Terrace Road, parking at the Wildcat Canyon Trailhead. Afternoon sunlight filtered through the pines, the wind fairly strong, very few people out and about. I showed them the way to West Northgate, following the use trail to the base of the north ridge. Up and away we went, the going steep, the wind absolutely ripping. One of my coworkers lost his hat; the thing just blew right off his head and into oblivion. He was quite upset about that. The guy had a connection with that hat. Said he was gonna look for it on the way down. But first, the summit.
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| West Northgate Peak summit |
We reached the top, sitting on the summit rocks for a quick minute before retreating farther west to get out of the blasted wind. Pictures, posing, a very bubbly summit beer, and then it was back down the mountain, our search for the lost hat in full swing. We hugged the base of the west face, scanning the bushes and trees, walking through pine needles and manzanita and these bare, pokey little bushes that didn't want to let go. We looked high and low, searching through the brush and the trees, trying to find any trace of the forsaken hat.
About Forty-five minutes later we abandoned the search, my coworker making peace with the situation, our sights now set on East Northgate Peak. We wandered on over there, following the use trail to the base of the climb. Like I did eight days prior, we directly ascended the northwest face, steeply ascending the slickrock slabs all the way to the summit.
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| Heading up East Northgate Peak |
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| Wow |
We reached the summit, hung out for like five seconds, and then descended a bit to the south to this fantastic overlook with tremendous views to the south. We spent a good chunk of time there, chatting a bit, enjoying the scenery, consuming a tangerine or two, the wind less intense now, the sun casting shadows on the gorgeous terrain that surrounded us. And then we set off down the peak, this time sticking to the class 2 use trail, the going slow, our pace casual and unhurried.
Back on the main trail, back to the parking lot, the sun now setting, the day coming to a close. For whatever reason, I stupidly suggested that we should try Lambs Knoll. I was curious to see what a sunset would look like from its summit, and I figured if we drove fast enough we'd be able to see it. Probably. It was a long shot. My coworkers agreed. Alright. It was settled. Lambs Knoll, here we come.
Down the road, down the curves, racing against the dying light. We pulled into the parking lot, the sun now having dipped below the horizon, its dying light casting a faint orange glow on the cliffs and sand. We proceeded with the climb regardless, bringing nothing but the clothes on our backs and a headlamp or two and a wild hope that we'd make it to the top before it became completely dark. Up and up we went, the light fading away, the deep shadow of night fast approaching. We wandered through sand and sagebrush, climbing up to the saddle and hurriedly making our way to the final class 3 section just beneath the summit. A deep orange glow vibrated off the horizon. Oh yeah. We were gonna make it. Barely.
A short scramble later and we were on the summit, the views just as good as I remembered them. Most everything was bathed in the dying light sprouting forth from the horizon, fading from orange to red to not -so-red to something less fantastic and much more subdued. We sat and watched it all go down, saw the colors of the rocks change before our very eyes, watched as the soft clouds floating high in the sky reflected the light long after everything else was nice and dark. And we stayed there for a while, talking about nothing in particular, enjoying the final moments of what had turned out to be an excellent day.
But we had to leave eventually, so we donned the headlamps and carefully made our way back down, the route-finding a little tricky in the dark. We stopped a little ways down to check out a slot canyon, scurrying up the thing to check out some cliffs on the other side. Satisfied with our little detour, we shimmied on back through the slot canyon, reaching the trailhead safe and sound, driving off down the road to home without issue. It had been a hell of a day with plenty of elevation gain to boot, my legs feelin' quite done by the time I finally laid down for sleepy time. I promised my legs that I'd do something easy in the morning, perhaps nothing at all. Of course, things didn't work out that way. But that's a story for another time.
